Brackett's Experiment
by lowri
Summary: Steven Ellison is kidnapped. Jim and Blair travel to Boston to rescue him. When another is kidnapped, the Sentinel and guide team up with The Others to rescue both.


Prologue

Disclaimer: This story is a Xover between The Sentinel and The Others. I am not the privileged owner of these two universes. Bilson and DeMeo created TS and The Others belong to Delusional films and NBC. The characters in this story belong to them, not me, and I haven't made a dime from their use. 

Time frame: In regards to the Sentinel, this story takes place after the show finale, but before Blair makes up his mind as to a career choice. He hasn't committed to joining the police force, but he is no longer a graduate student. The characters from this show include Jim Ellison, Steven Ellison, Blair Sandburg, and Lee Brackett. Simon Banks, Charlie Spring (the psychic) and Molly (the ghost) are mentioned.

The Others was an NBC show that aired for about three months in the beginning of 2000. It was never given much of a chance to succeed. The show had six main characters, Elmer Greentree, Miles Ballard, Mark Gabriel, Marian Kitt, Warren Day, Albert McGonnagal and Satori. They were all psychic is some manner. I try to describe the characters so that you, the reader, can get a feel for them, in case you've never seen the show. My story takes place sometime between the episode, "Till Then" and the finale.

I would like to thank my betas. Kimberly read the first draft and helped me to rearrange a few scenes so that they made more sense. Paula, Shallan and Cindy, my BPP buddies, pointed out the many places where I disregarded the rules of grammar, most especially the ones dealing with commas. I send you all virtual chocolates, carrots for Shallan's horse and bones for Paula's Husky and Cindy's Lab mix. Also, thanks to Kay, one of my Highlander betas. She did a read-through to make sure that "The Others'" characters were well explained.

Comments gratefully accepted at: [lwright3@rochester.rr.com][1]

Enjoy!

****

Brackett's Experiment 

By Lori Wright

****

Prologue

Lee Brackett took off his bike helmet as he entered the building. The brisk wind off the Atlantic Ocean made Boston seem cooler than the fifty-five degrees that the bank's thermometer had registered. All this was immaterial to Lee. As long as there wasn't any snow to hinder his bike, everything was fine. He slung his collegiate-looking backpack over one shoulder and headed toward the lecture hall.

He was looking forward to the class on Mayan Spiritualism. Actually it wasn't the lecture, but rather the lecturer that interested him. Dr. Miles Ballard was a professor in the Psychology Department with a second appointment in Anthropology. He taught classes in parapsychology, instructing young minds in the reality of ghosts and prescience. Lee didn't hold much belief in the spirit realm; he was more intrigued with Ballard's side interest of ancient customs and stories. It was possible that Ballard had even heard of Sentinels.

The lecture hall was about half empty. He selected a seat in the back of the room so that he was hidden within shadows. It might pose problems if Ballard was able to recognize him at a future date. The students around him brought out their books and pens as the professor began talking at the podium. Lee yawned. The man was boring. This was entirely different from listening to Blair Sandburg give a lecture. His students were alert, full of energy, and waiting to contribute in class. Ballard's class was half-asleep, while his voice droned on in monotone.

Lee's attention was not really on what the man was saying. He was considering how this man would fit into his plans. Ballard was not athletic; Lee wasn't sure if this was a positive or not. The professor looked like he could be easily intimidated. That was definitely a plus. Lee gave a predatory smile as he contemplated his plan. A few minor details left to take care of and then he'd be ready. He was actually looking forward to his experiment.

****

Chapter 1 

Miles Ballard walked into Marian's apartment, juggling his laptop computer and a stack of books. 

"'Bout time you got here," Albert muttered to no one in particular. His sightless eyes turned toward the door. 

"I've got some exciting news," Miles replied, undaunted by the caustic remark. He sat down in a chair and set his computer up on a coffee table.

Elmer Greentree, the leader of the unusual group, gave a benign smile at the fumblings of Dr. Ballard. While the professor was an intelligent expert on mythology and folklore, he was not the most organized of their members.

Their group, loosely referred to as 'The Others', was an updated version of the 1920's group known as the Bow Street Others. Elmer had been a member back then, and decided to organize another such group as he found more people who shared his gift of psychic sensitivity. While Dr. Ballard didn't share this gift, he did believe in it and worked to document their experiences.

The host for the evening was the newest member, Marian Kitt. She was a college junior. When she first arrived in Boston she had become involved in a psychic episode on Campus. With the aid of 'The Others', Marian had been able to let a man know that his girlfriend's death had been an accident, not the result of suicide. As Marian became more relaxed with her gift, she attended more of their meetings and even volunteered to host some. This was such a night.

"If it's so exciting, why are you waiting so long to tell us?" Albert asked impatiently, as Miles logged on and then called up the screen he wanted to show them.

"The web page I designed for 'The Others' has been getting a consistent hit from someone."

"So," Albert muttered.

"What do you think he wants?" Elmer asked in his slow, calming voice.

"This person seemed very interested in the part where we are able to communicate with ghosts and help them get to the other side. I added more data, when I saw what he was interested in, and he kept coming back."

"How do you know it's the same person?" Dr. Mark Gabriel asked. Mark, a first year resident at St Joseph's, was an empathic healer. He used his talent covertly since he was unable to explain to his superiors how he was able to diagnose problems without the usual tests.

"Well," Miles answered enthusiastically. "When I look at the stats, the persistent cookies tell me that recently all the hits have come from the same computer."

Satori, the only one of the group who used her talent to make a living, got up from her seat and went over to look at the computer screen. She operated a New Age place where people could pay to talk to their dead friends or relatives. Her sensitivity enabled the spirits to talk to and through her. Most of her customers were happy with her talent. Her biggest problem was when unrelated spirits talked to her at inopportune times. "Has he found what he's looking for?"

"I don't think so, which is why he decided to write to us," Miles answered triumphantly. "I answered him back and I received a reply about an hour ago."

"What did he have to say?" Elmer asked again.

"He explained that *his friend* had an experience with a ghost. At first I thought that 'his friend' was a euphemism for himself, but now I think it really happened to a friend of his. This friend, Jim, is a cop. He was investigating inside a derelict house when this woman appeared and started showing him scenes from her life."

"Sounds like a classic example of the spirits needing us to do something for them," Satori added sardonically.

"Was he able to help?" Marian asked.

"According to the man that wrote me the e-mail, Blair Sandburg, yes. Jim solved her murder. After reading Blair's first letter, I did a search on him. You're not going to believe what I found." Miles shuffled around in his books, and pulled out a folder. He passed around a piece to paper to each. "Several years ago, a Blair Sandburg did a Masters Thesis on Sentinels. I believe that they're the same person."

"What's a Sentinel?" Mark asked.

"In ancient times, tribes relied on Sentinels to help guard them. They're usually warriors with five enhanced senses: smell, taste, touch, sight and hearing."

"Why only five?" Mark looked intrigued.

"Exactly!" Miles jumped off the couch and began pacing. "Albert lost his sight and now his sixth sense, the sensitivity of the spirit world, has opened up. What's to say that a Sentinel can't also have the sixth sense? What if this Blair Sandburg found a Sentinel, this Jim who is a police officer, and he has the gift?" Miles sat back down, waiting to see what they made of it.

Elmer was the first to speak. "Do you think they need help?"

"I don't know, maybe. After all, Blair did write."

"Is this Blair a cop or a professor?" Marian asked.

"He's not listed as a Rainier student or faculty, nor is he officially a cop. I have no idea what his occupation could be now." Miles picked up the paper he had handed out. "This is a copy of the abstract to his thesis. I think we need to go see him." Miles waited for their reaction.

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. Marian went to answer it. Warren entered. He had a glazed expression on his face, which was usual. Most of the time one was never sure what plane Warren existed on. Rarely was it the earthly one. Warren carried a paper grocery bag.

"Did I miss something?" he asked as they all looked at him.

There was a collective groan.

Warren ignored it. "I was in this old bookstore over on Millhouse Road and found this interesting book. It a monograph by someone named Richard Burton." Warren pulled out the book. "It's called, _Sentinels of Paraguay_."

Miles jumped out of his seat to get a closer look at it. No one seemed surprised that Warren had brought the book. Despite the fact that he looked like he was stoned most of the time, he had the uncanny ability to know what was needed at a particular time and be able to provide it. His particular talent was that he was a seer, although he seemed the least likely to know anything that was going on.

"I agree," Elmer stated. "We should visit them."

****

Chapter 2 

Blair Sandburg logged off from his computer. He sat still, wondering what he was going to do now. He had been surfing the net for months, looking up web sites devoted to psychic phenomena. Most didn't have an ounce of usable information, until he hit The Others. This Dr. Ballard sounded like a real authority, not some guru that his mother might've hooked up with. He had a Ph.D. with his thesis on apparitional materialization. This was the person Jim needed to help him understand what was happening to him. Now that Dr. Ballard had written back, expressing an interest in meeting them, Blair was nervous. Jim wasn't going to be happy becoming a lab rat to yet another esoteric, neo-hippy, punk, researcher. What else had Jim called him?

The loft's front door opened. "Sandburg!"

"I'm here," Blair shouted back, standing up from the couch.

"I'm going to Boston." Jim's voice sounded strained.

"What's happened?"

"Steven went there for a business meeting. Something's happened and now he's missing. His company notified my father that he left after dinner, but never showed up at his hotel. That was two days ago."

"Two days?" Blair asked amazed. "Why'd they wait so long to tell your father?"

"You know someone's not missing until they've been gone twenty-four hours." 

Jim Ellison mounted the stairs two at a time to his bedroom. Blair watched him a second, shuffling clothes into a suitcase.

"Jim?" Blair called up. "Wait for me! I'm coming, too."

Blair rushed into his room and began sorting his clothes. There was no way he'd let Jim handle this alone. How long would they be gone? A few days? A few weeks? He'd better pack enough for an extended stay. Jim wouldn't leave until Steven had been found.

With seconds to spare, Blair made it back to the living room before Jim, duffel in hand. The two men left the loft and not once did Jim question Blair's decision to accompany him. Blair smiled secretly. It was a step in the right direction.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The plane trip was uneventful. Jim checked them both into the same hotel that Steven had been staying in. Despite Jim's staid exterior, his insides were churning with worry. Granted, he and Steven weren't as close as brothers should be, but they were working on it. Since the racetrack scandal, back in May of '97, they had kept in touch. A dinner here, a football game there. Both were trying. 

Jim smiled as he remembered the Seahawks game they attended a few months ago. Someone behind them had spilled some beer down Steven's back, soaking his Armani suit. Steven had stood up and lit into the unfortunate man behind them. His business persona was hidden behind his macho four letter words. At the time, Jim didn't know whether to chide his brother for his temper tantrum or slap him on the back and say, 'well done'. It was the last time Steven wore a suit to a game.

After checking into a hotel, Jim and Blair went down to the police station to talk to the officer in charge. They had talked twice before, briefly. Jim hoped this officer was someone who'd accept his help, because he was prepared to do this with or without sanction.

"I'm looking for Sergeant Martello?" Jim asked the man at the front desk. "I'm Detective James Ellison with the Cascade Police Department."

"Martello is up on the third floor. Take those elevators. When you come out, take a right; the missing person division is your second door. Can't miss it."

Jim thanked him. The two men passed by several officers busy with their jobs. Some nodded to them, while others ignored them. Jim felt at home in this environment.

"Do they have any clues?" Blair asked as they got into the elevator. "You never said."

"None. His hotel wasn't ransacked. He was seen getting into a cab. That's it." With any luck the police here would have additional information. Jim admitted to himself that what he had received so far was pretty sketchy.

The plaque on the door was as easily recognizable as they had been told. Jim opened the door to a very busy bullpen. Several officers, both plain-clothes and uniformed, were sitting at desks busy at work. Heads looked up at them as they entered.

"You Ellison?" One man stood, which pegged him as the officer they were looking for.

Martello looked like he was in his mid-thirties. His short-cropped hair stuck out in odd angles, as if he had been running his hands through it. Bleary eyes greeted them, a testament to long hours spent on the job.

"Yes. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Martello nodded to Blair. "Your captain has faxed me a picture of your brother and we've got an APB out on him. We've gone though his room, but didn't find anything."

"Can we take a look?" Jim asked politely.

"Sure. We've kept it corded off, just in case. One thing, the concierge told us that someone had been asking questions about Steven Ellison on the morning of his disappearance. We just found that out a few hours ago."

"A description?" Jim tensed. Maybe this could be their first real clue.

"Caucasian. He had brown hair, cut pretty short. Tall and athletic; possibly military."

"Could be anybody," Blair remarked.

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Military, huh?"

"Clean job," Martello admitted.

"What about the cab company?" Blair asked. "Was there any record of where the cab dropped off Steven?"

"Mr. Guyon, the man Mr. Ellison was having dinner with, said that the cab was from Metro, and it's number was 241."

"He remembered the number?" Jim asked incredulously.

"Yeah, it's his house number." Martello informed them.

"Let me guess. There is no cab 241?" Blair remarked, shaking his head.

"Right. I checked every single company in the Boston and outlying areas. I even checked as far north as Salem. Nothing," Martello added with a disgusted snort. 

Jim's gut twisted in fear. Was Steven kidnapped? Looked that way. Was it related somehow to him? Someone he'd put away in the past? The whole situation reeked of the government's involvement. The job was done clean, it had to be the work of a professional.

The search of the hotel room yielded nothing, as Martello had warned him. Next, Jim wanted to talk to Guyon. It was a remote possibility that the man was involved in Steven's kidnapping. He was the reason Steven had come to Boston in the first place. 

Andre Guyon owned a pharmaceutical company. Steven's company had been hired to build a satellite installation in Cascade. Jim called for an appointment and was told that Mr. Guyon would see him as soon as he arrived. The secretary sounded genuine, almost eager to help. Jim hoped her boss would be as cooperative.

She was waiting for them as they entered through the front door.

"Mr. Guyon is anxious to see you," she told them as she led them through the corridors. "So, you're Steven Ellison's brother? You look just like him."

Jim gave her a condescending smile. "Thank you." Her grandmother-like attitude was not going to distract him from his mission.

They entered Guyon's office and were greeted warmly by him. "Mr. Ellison, I am so sorry about your brother. I told the police everything I could remember, but I wish I could do more."

"Thank you. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Andre Guyon held out his hand to Blair. "Nice to meet you, son."

Jim mentally flinched, knowing how much Sandburg hated being called that, even though Guyon had to be over sixty. 

"Please, gentlemen have a seat. Thank you, Marjorie. That will be all."

Jim sat down upon a plush chair opposite of Guyon. Blair sat next to him on a matching seat. With all his senses alert, Jim began questioning the company head.

"Night before last you had dinner with my brother, is that correct?" Jim asked with narrowed eyes.

"Yes," he nodded. "We had been going over details all afternoon and both of us were tired and hungry. I suggested a Japanese restaurant in the city and he agreed."

"Which one?" Blair asked. 

Jim saw that his partner was writing down what Guyon was telling them. Guyon didn't appear nervous. His feet weren't shuffling under the desk. Even his breathing and heart rate was normal.

"Arigato. It's downtown, next to the Park Avenue Theater."

"When you saw him that afternoon," Jim asked, "was that your first meeting with him?"

"Yes. He flew in the evening before and we set up our meeting before he left Cascade. I didn't talk to him until he arrived here."

"I assume you went through all the pleasantries about nice flight, adequate hotel, et cetera. Did he happen to mention anything out of the ordinary, like he'd been followed or someone inquisitive had sat next to him on the plane?"

Guyon was quiet a minute. His heart was still beating rhythmically, and his breathing was normal. He didn't give any indication that he was lying. Suddenly his heart thumped faster.

"Wait. Steven said something about a meeting he had to cancel in Cascade. The man had sounded irate when Steven had told him about his trip to Boston. Then Steven mentioned that he thought he saw the same man at the airport. I don't know if any of this is relevant."

"Did he tell you the man's name or mention a description?"

"I don't believe so," Guyon answered. 

"Thanks for your help." Jim stood up and shook hands with Guyon over the desk.

"Now what?" Blair asked as they left the building.

"We call Steven's office and see if we can get a name or address." 

Just then, a man walked by. He looked scruffy and his walk was erratic. His eyes were bloodshot and he appeared high on drugs. Jim instinctively moved in front of Blair, blocking his partner in case the man made a sudden move. Instead, the stranger looked at Jim and said, "Nice cat. He must need a huge litter box." Then he continued by.

It took a second, but Blair called after him, "What cat?"

"The big, black cat. Jeez, he's shielding a wolf. You ought to be careful what you bring to the city. It's a dangerous place here." He stopped walking. "Are they for your protection?"

"No," Jim answered hesitantly. The noise around him vanished. Jim's sole focus was on the man in front of him. How in the hell did he know about his animal guide? He felt exposed. Blair had assured him that no one could see something that was a part of his soul. "Who are you?" he asked, burying his fear.

The man smiled. "Warren Day. I'm one of 'The Others'." Then he turned and continued on his way. 

Jim hurried to keep up. He could hear his partner's footsteps behind him. 

Warren Day turned around, although he continued walking. "Don't worry, we'll meet again." Then he melted into the crowds.

Jim felt an urgency to catch the young man, but he was gone. He stopped, taking hurried breaths. "Chief, I--" Jim noticed that Sandburg was ashen. "Are you feeling okay? You're as pale as a ghost." If anything, Blair went whiter with his comment. "Do you know what that was all about?" Jim asked, suspicion blossoming at his partner's discomfort.

"Ah, no. Not really," he hedged.

"You're lying and not doing a very good job of it. I want an explanation," Jim demanded. He hated it when Blair kept things from him.

"Why don't we go back to the hotel first," Blair suggested, obviously trying to put off the explanation for as long as possible.

Jim acquiesced, wanting the privacy to understand whatever Sandburg was going to tell him. It had better not be 'The Others' who had kidnapped Steven or there'd be hell to pay.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Blair ran through several possible explanations in his head. Jim kept shooting him suspicious looks, but Blair tried to smile reassuringly at his friend. It was unbelievable that they met a man on the street who was able to see Jim's spirit guide, and was part of 'The Others'. Blair didn't know that they existed all over the country. In fact, now that he stopped to think about it, he didn't know where they were based. Dr. Ballard had told him that he was still doing research on the paranormal with the aid of 'The Others', hence the web site's name. It was possible that they were based here in Boston.

They arrived at the hotel much too fast. Blair tried to walk slowly, but Jim was having none of it. Warren said that he could see the jaguar and the wolf. How could that be possible? The spirit animals existed on a different plane and he thought only Jim could see them. He saw the wolf once, but that was because he and Jim had the Sentinel/Guide connection. How did Warren Day fit into all this?

"Okay, Chief, spit it out," Jim commanded as they entered the room.

"All right, but you're not going to like it."

"I'm way past that point."

With a defeated sigh, Blair went over to his laptop and logged onto 'The Others' site. "I found this a few weeks ago." Jim peered over his shoulder as he clicked. "I figured we could use some help. I don't know anything about the paranormal. The whole case with Molly and the way she was able to communicate with you made me realize that there was a whole aspect to your hyper-senses that I haven't investigated yet."

"What aspect?"

"A sixth sense, man. You're sensitive to spirits. They can talk to you."

"Only one spirit."

"That's not true. Molly may be the only human spirit you've talked to so far, but what about the jaguar? He's a spirit and he communicates with you through visuals. Just like Molly. That's why I wrote to Dr. Ballard. He's an expert on ghosts."

Jim reached over and clicked onto the letters that he had received from Dr. Ballard. Blair could feel Jim grow even more tense as he read through them.

"You actually told him that I saw a ghost?" Jim asked incredulously.

"Well, yes. But only so he could help me understand what had happened."

"And where does Warren Day fit in all this?"

"He said he was part of 'The Others'. That's the group of 'sensitives'," Blair used his fingers to symbolize quotation marks in the air, "that Dr. Ballard uses in his research."

Jim was silent for a few moments as he read the letters one by one. "It says here that he wants to meet you--us. I don't want any part of it!" he said with finality.

Jim was yelling in Blair's ears. Why was it when Jim was angry and his voice rose it never hurt his ears? But if someone sneezed in a quiet movie theater, Jim would overreact and tell the person to shut up? Well, Blair admitted to himself, maybe it wasn't that bad.

"Look, Jim. I wrote to Dr. Ballard that we were going out of town and I'd get back to him later."

"Not good enough. I want you to write and tell him not to come at all. If he starts asking me about that sixth sense you've been harping about, something might come out about my other five."

"Don't worry. I'd--"

"No!"

End of story. Why couldn't Jim accept help from qualified people? Blair reluctantly shut down his computer. He still intended on contacting this Dr. Ballard, but there was no reason why it couldn't wait. They weren't chasing ghosts here. This was about Jim's brother.

With the matter resolved, Blair put 'The Others' out of his mind. Jim was on the phone with Griffin Enterprises, Steven's employer. Judging by Jim's tone, Blair figured he was talking to Marie, Steven's secretary. They talked a few more minutes, then Jim hung up. 

"The appointment Steven had was with a man named D. Braddock. That's all that's written down."

"Did you ask Marie to ask around about this Braddock person?"

"She said she would and get back to me if she found anything."

The ringing of the telephone startled them both. Jim grabbed the receiver and listened. Blair watched a myriad of emotions cross his friend's face before grim determination took precedence. 

"Come on, Chief. Steven's been spotted."

Blair scrambled to keep up with Jim's long strides. 

As soon as they made it to their rented 4-Runner, Jim explained the call. "That was Martello. This warehouse manager called in to say that one of his workers saw something suspicious the night before. A man was seen dragging another into a warehouse down the wharf from him. The restrained man broke free and the other shot him with a Tazer, disabling him and they disappeared inside. The man trying to escape his captor matches Steven's description."

"It took them this long to notify the police?"

"Sometimes it just takes that long for information to reach the right place."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Martello met them at the corner of State and Glide. Black and whites had all the streets blocked. The warehouse was surrounded. Plain-clothes' officers crouched, awaiting the signal.

Jim, anxious to get inside, drew his gun and started walking. Martello, looking irritated, forged ahead, taking the lead. Blair had to jog to catch up to the other two. 

As Blair came alongside, he whispered to Jim, "Block out the sounds around us. Concentrate inside. Do you hear anything?"

Jim stilled with his head tilted slightly. "I can't dial down low enough for heartbeats, but I can hear someone rustling. There's a creaking of metal on metal, like a door opening. I can hear footsteps, but they're irregular, like something is being dragged." He crept forward, his ears still straining. "I think I just heard a door slam." Then he heard a quick scratching-type of sound. Opening up his sense of smell, he could just distinguish the faint smell of smoke. "Ah, shit," Jim said loudly. "He's going to burn the place down." With less caution, Jim headed for the side door. "Stay behind me, Chief."

"Don't I always?" Blair grumbled.

Jim was oblivious to the other cops. His focus was on finding the person or persons inside before the place burned down. Using his foot, he slammed it into the door, sending it flying open. He waited a second, then rushed inside. His pupils adjusted to the light, revealing wooden crates stacked up to the ceiling everywhere he looked. 

In the southeast corner, there was an office surrounded by glass and smoke was pouring out from under the door. "That's the door I heard closing," he told Blair, although he knew that Blair could see neither the office nor the door. Jim could just make out movement inside it. 

"Jeez, he set the fire in the damned office trapping himself in there," Jim told Blair, who was having difficulty seeing much of anything. Only slivers of light were able to penetrate spaces in the warehouse wall.

"Why would someone do that? There must be an escape hatch."

Jim conceded that. But the office was filled with smoke and he could see that a desk was engulfed in flames. He did *not* see any more movement inside, though. As the two men got closer, Jim heard a sound that he found difficult to identify. Then he heard the glass start to give. With no time to warn Blair, the Sentinel turned towards his partner. Shielding him with his body, Ellison pulled Sandburg to the ground, just behind a small crate. The glass exploded, sending various sized fragments out in all directions. Their faces were saved, but their arms had been exposed. 

With his eyes covered, Jim waited for the glass to settle. His hearing was dialed up in order to hear any clues as to where and how his fugitive might have escaped. The fire was still roaring and beginning to spread outside the office now that the walls were shattered. Jim could hear the wail of fire trucks as they arrived. He removed his arm from over Blair's back and could see that both of them were bleeding profusely. They needed medical attention without delay. Ignoring the pain, he helped Blair up and then froze. 

"Missed again, Jim," a voice said, laughing.

"Brackett!" Jim shouted, stunned at the discovery. He would never forget that voice. Only Brackett had the nerve to call him by his first name, as though they were comrades. It implied an intimacy that repelled Jim. A familiarity born of knowledge. Brackett knew that Jim was a Sentinel and now the bastard had his brother.

"You sure?" Blair asked weakly, his face pale from pain and blood-loss.

Jim only nodded, unable to express out loud what was going through his mind. "I can't hear him anymore. We'll get fixed up and then go looking for him. At least now we know what we're up against."

After passing two firemen busy putting out the fire, Jim and Blair stumbled outside. Two EMT's greeted them at the door and led them to their vehicle. They sat side-by-side in the back of the ambulance as the paramedics began treating them right away. Jim was straining to hear anything more from Brackett, but the noise from all the sirens was making it difficult. The warehouse burned furiously and Jim felt his energy draining as his concentration became fixed on the flames.

"Jim?" Blair's hand gripped Jim's uninjured arm.

"I'm okay," Jim replied, but he really wasn't. Neither was Blair. Jim believed that his partner was going into shock.

"We're going to have to take you guys in," they were told by an EMT. "There are microscopic fragments that we can't get to."

"Fine," Jim answered them, too weak to put up any kind of resistance. He needed to check for Brackett while the trail was fresh, but his body wasn't cooperating. Brackett seemed to excel at escaping, leaving a disaster in his wake.

The back doors of the ambulance closed and Jim could hear the driver on the radio. He was instructed to take them to St Joseph's Hospital. Jim couldn't care which one as long as they were treated and released in as short a time as possible. During the ride, Jim gave them the personal information for their paperwork. He told the paramedic that they were not to be separated or he'd raise hell. Blair gave Jim a weak smile. Was it of gratitude or mockery because of his belligerence? Jim didn't know or care.

When the ambulance stopped, they were dragged out and met by a doctor. He ushered them both into a cubicle. His nametag read Dr. Mark Gabriel. He was young, Jim noted, with light blond hair and an easy smile. The detective felt himself relax … a little.

"Hello, Mr. Ellison. Mr. Sandburg," he said, looking up after reading the paperwork. "Let me take a quick look at both of your arms and then I'll start pulling out the fragments."

"Do Blair first," Jim commanded, still worried over Blair's basic unresponsiveness. He was just too quiet.

"Okay," the doctor responded.

Dr. Gabriel pulled up a chair. A large magnifying glass was attached to the wall, and he maneuvered it so that it was just above Blair's arm. A tray with different sized tweezers and scalpels was sitting upon a hospital table. 

"You want a shot for the pain?" the doctor asked Blair.

"Yes, he does," Jim responded for Blair.

Jim saw Dr. Gabriel look from Blair to him and then back to Blair. He gave Blair the shot. Next, the doctor picked up the forceps and began working, pulling out the minute shards. A waste beaker became the receptacle for the glass.

Jim propped himself up in the bed so he could observe the doctor's every move. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dr. Gabriel, he just didn't think the man could do a thorough job. The magnifying glass could only show so much. 

Tirelessly, the doctor kept at his job, removing the glass. At one point, Jim could swear the doctor had his eyes closed as he searched for more glass. Blair wasn't paying any attention; his eyes were closed. Occasionally, he would wince, proving that he wasn't asleep or unconscious. Jim sat up so he had a better angle. There, the doctor's eyes were closed again, his hand lightly touching Blair's arm. Dr. Gabriel's hand went unerringly to an area where he pulled out another shard. Was this man a Sentinel? Did he have the enhanced sense of touch? 

"Finished," the doctor said, putting the forceps down.

Blair seemed drowsy and not quite with-it. 

Another doctor came into the room. "Mark, let me do the other patient. You need to take a break."

"No," Mark responded adamantly. "Just let me get a drink and I'll be fine."

The other doctor shrugged his shoulders and left. Dr. Gabriel gave Jim a tired smile. "I'll be right back."

Jim sat back mulling over what he had just witnessed. Standing up, he went over to Blair's bed. With his hand, he lightly went over the injured area. Blair flinched and looked up at him questioningly.

"What's up, man?"

"Just checking," he responded. "I need to make sure there isn't any glass left."

"Is there?" Blair asked, his eyes still cloudy from pain.

"Nope. The doctor did a good job."

In fact, the doctor had done as well as he could have. Satisfied, but still puzzled, he returned to his bed. Dr. Gabriel's voice caught his attention.

"Warren, no, you can't go in there. They're hurt and probably not in the best frames of mind."

"I'm just curious about the cat. Is he injured, too?"

"I didn't see any cat," Dr. Gabriel told him.

"Of course you didn't, but Albert 'd be able to see him."

"The cat?" Dr. Gabriel sounded confused.

"Just let me take a tiny peek. I promise to be quiet. I won't disturb them."

"No. I promise you can see them later. Right now I have to get back to work. Go home."

Jim could hear Dr. Gabriel walking in their direction, but he couldn't hear this Warren at all.

"I'm sorry I took so long, Mr. Ellison."

Again the doctor positioned his chair and magnifying glass around the injured arm.

"I gave Mr. Sandburg a shot for pain. Do you require one?"

"No."

"Fine. I'll just--"

"Do you really need the magnifying glass? I saw that you were finding the fragments in Blair's arm without it."

Dr. Gabriel stiffened in his chair and stared at Jim. After a few seconds he admitted, "No. I don't need it. I just thought it would be easier for you to handle if--"

"I don't care what you use. If you don't need it, don't use it."

The doctor smiled. "Okay." He pushed the magnifying glass out of the way and began working. He used his eyes most of the time, but it didn't look like he was straining to see anything. He already knew where each shard was located. 

Jim was impressed. It wasn't sense of touch he used, but an instinct. Jim could feel each sliver and was ready to point out what the doctor had missed, but he wasn't needed. Slowly the curtain surrounding his cubicle moved. It was just a faint whispering of air that signaled to the Sentinel that an intruder was entering. Warren, the same Warren Day they had come across in the streets, snuck quietly into the room. He looked all around and then fastened his eyes on the floor at the foot of Jim's bed. The Sentinel watched as the jaguar's head popped up and then strolled over to Warren. The two stared at one another, then the cat vanished. Warren turned and crept silently out of the room.

"Something the matter, Mr. Ellison?"

"Your friend Warren just slipped in here."

Dr. Gabriel turned around abruptly.

"He's gone now," Jim told him. "So, are you a part of 'The Others?' Is that why you can see small things without the magnifying glass?"

"I'm an empathic healer. I can feel your body telling me where the problems are. That's why 'The Others' asked me to join the group. Not the other way around."

"How many are there in the group?" Jim asked curiously.

"Come to a meeting and find out."

"No, thank you. I'm not one of those psychic, paranormal gurus."

"Most of the members talk to spirits. Have you ever communicated with a ghost?"

Caught. This man wasn't as ignorant as he appeared. "What makes you say that?"

Dr. Gabriel took a deep breath. "I know about Sentinels and this Molly you saw. Mr. Sandburg told Miles. I can't force you to come to a meeting, but I know that sometimes a support group is helpful."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yeah, guess I am. I have these abilities that I can't tell anyone about. Sometimes I see patients that come in so sick and I know what's wrong. The doctors around them order tests and talk and all I want to do is get right in there and help right away. And I can't. The few times when I've tried, I got shot down; disciplinary action and everything."

Jim could understand how difficult that would be. He had experienced similar things on the job. At least Simon knew about him.

When Jim didn't respond to his confession, Dr. Gabriel gave him a resigned smile and dropped the subject. "You better rest for awhile. I'll get back to you later. If you sense an infection in either you or Mr. Sandburg, let me know right away."

Jim watched Dr. Gabriel leave. He didn't want to rest. Brackett was out there, holding his brother, and he needed to be looking for him. With a shuddering sigh, Jim relaxed, and waited impatiently for them to be released. How long would these doctors keep him imprisoned here? The pain was driving him crazy. Turning the dials down, yet again, he glanced over at his partner who still didn't seem to be with-it. Slowly his eyes closed, and sleep claimed him.

****

Chapter **3**

Miles Ballard hung up the phone, deep in thought. So, Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg were in town. It wasn't that he doubted what Warren had told him, but sometimes Warren got confused. He felt bad that they had gotten hurt, but it did bring the pair to his attention. Miles grinned to himself as he gathered a notebook and left for the hospital. He was grateful that Mark had called to inform him that Ellison and Sandburg were still in emergency. He hoped he'd be able to slip in and visit before they were released.

On the way to the hospital, Miles briefly thought about informing Elmer about the new development, but then decided that Mark had probably already called him. Once inside, Miles went directly to cubicle four, where Mark had said the two men had been placed. Opening the curtain slightly, Miles saw a large man, who appeared to be sleeping. That must be James Ellison, the Sentinel. A younger man, who was most likely Blair Sandburg, was awake and staring at the ceiling.

"Can I come in?" Miles asked politely. 

The younger one looked up and gave him a friendly smile. "Sure."

Miles took a moment to appraise him. Sandburg had a Master's degree under his belt, but Miles was unsure if he had ever completed a Ph.D. Did he have an open mind, or did he only believe in things that could be proven? The fact that he initiated contact with 'The Others' was a good sign. These two could be a real asset to his research. 

"I'm Miles Ballard."

The young man's eyes widened and gave him a big smile. "Man, am I glad to meet you. I'd planned on contacting you once we made it back to Cascade and everything. Things have been crazy since," the young man paused. "I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself."

"I believe you're Blair Sandburg."

"Yeah. How did you know I was here? I mean in Boston."

"Mark called me about a half and hour ago."

"Mark?" Sandburg asked.

"Sorry. Your doctor, Mark Gabriel. He's one of 'The Others'. He's an empathic healer. His mind can see what's wrong in the body and he's been known to be able to… but you don't need to know that now. I'm here about you and the friend who communicates with ghosts."

A worried look crossed the young man's face. "Dr. Ballard--"

"Call me Miles."

"And I'm Blair. I don't think talking about 'The Others' right now is a good idea. Jim's pretty stressed about his brother."

"What happened to his brother?" Miles asked curiously.

"Steven was kidnapped by a--um--known nemesis of ours. He's been missing for a few days and we're pretty worried about him."

"Don't you think it's ironic that you ended up in Boston?"

"Coincidence," Blair said firmly. "I think we should put off our discussion until after Steven's been found."

"Maybe we can help."

Blair looked horrified. "Steven's not dead."

"I'm not saying he is. All I'm saying is that--"

The other man interrupted him. "I believe my partner has declined your offer."

Miles found himself looking into the coldest blue eyes he'd ever seen. A chill went down his spine. He did not want to cross this man. He had been involved in some strange and terrifying predicaments, yet he didn't think any of them could compare to what this man could probably dish out when his protective urges were fired. Protective? Slowly he relaxed. This man was just overprotective. He could deal with that. "Mr. Ellison. I'm--"

"I know who you are. We're not interested."

Suddenly the curtain moved again. Miles groaned as he saw Albert make his way in. Warren had him by the arm, helping him along. Albert was not known for his tact. Ellison didn't look the type to put up with him. He could foresee a massive fight happening right here in the emergency room. Mark was not going to like this.

Albert continued into the alcove and went unerringly to Mr. Ellison's bed. Miles glanced at Ellison, the man looked bemused. It was obvious that his stern expression wasn't going to have an effect on Albert. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he had feared.

"What do you want?" Mr. Ellison barked.

"I was curious about you. Everyone's been pussy-footin' around you and I'm tired of it."

"Curious about what?"

"Your senses. That book Warren found said that Sentinels have enhanced senses. When I lost my eyes, my hearing became better. But what really took the place of my eyes was my sixth sense. Miles says that maybe you have that, too. Do you?"

Albert was right next to Ellison, seemingly looking directly at him. It was still unnerving to Miles and he could tell it had the same effect on Ellison. Miles almost laughed out loud when the overprotective cop looked pleadingly at his partner, Blair, to save him.

"No, I don't," Jim finally spoke.

"Well, technically, Jim. You probably do," Blair corrected. "I mean, you had all the classic symptoms; the cold, smelling that sweet stuff and seeing the glowing outline of Molly. It's a commonly shared phenomenon. I told you that at the time."

"Sounds like all your senses were engaged," remarked Albert. "Was she cute?"

"No!" Jim practically shouted.

"I don't know, man, but she sure looked cute in that picture," Blair was quick to add.

Jim glared menacingly at Blair, but the look just bounced off the younger man.

The curtain parted again, and Mark entered. "What's going on in here?" He looked around, admonishing them with his eyes. "Out, all of you. These guys need rest. If they want to come to one of our weekly meetings that's fine, but you will not cross-examine him in my ER."

Miles reluctantly let Mark kick him out. He was positive that Blair would make sure that they stayed in touch. The professor decided to pay a visit to Elmer and tell him what he found out. The key was Steven, Jim Ellison's brother. The man was missing, or rather kidnapped. He was sure that someone in the group could locate him, or at least get a hint at where he was. Jim Ellison would surely be impressed if they were able to help. Warren accompanied him down the elevator and out to the parking garage. Just as Miles turned to say goodbye, Warren stiffened and gazed blankly down at the sidewalk.

"What is it?" Miles asked concerned.

"I don't know. Something is gonna happen." Warren shrugged his shoulders. "It's gone now."

"What did it feel like?" Miles asked impatiently. Maybe it had something to do with the Ellisons or even Blair.

"The world didn't seem right for a minute. It's like the printer did everything too dark, but then it went back to normal. I can't explain it."

"If you get any more of those feelings, write them in your journal and let me know. Do you usually keep track of things like this?"

"Most of the time," Warren admitted. "Guess I better get going. Bye." He walked through the garage and out through the Main Street exit.

Miles looked nervously around. Despite Warren's assurances that 'it was gone now', the rows of cars took on a sinister appearance as he imagined "bad guys" behind each one. The lady with the huge handbag could have a gun stashed inside. Miles quickened his steps and, by the time he reached his car, he was breathing heavily. Quickly closing the door, he let out a huge sigh of relief. On his way to the exit gate, he pulled out his cell phone and called Elmer to tell him that he was on his way over.

After giving the attendant the money, he pulled forward. As he came up to the stop sign on North Avenue, a man standing at the corner came over to his driver side window. He had very short hair and was carrying a Teddy bear.

"Excuse me?" the stranger asked, his voice sounding muffled through the glass. "Can you tell me which building is the pediatric ward?"

Miles looked down and cranked open the window. "It's over--" As he lifted his eyes, something stung his neck. He brought his hand up and felt a tiny dart sticking out. The stranger pulled a blowpipe out of his mouth. Time seemed to expand and the world around him changed hues. Miles willed his hand to pull the dart out, but it wouldn't obey. Instead, it fell limply to his lap. The last thing he remembered was being dragged to the passenger's side. Then everything went black.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Sounds penetrated the fog that surrounded Miles. Two men were talking in the background. His mind found it difficult to focus on the words, but the anger and frustration came through loud and clear. The pain in his head made full consciousness difficult, but he needed to know where he was and with whom. 

Gazing across the room, Miles could see a man sitting on a cot. His eyes looked haunted and very confused. Another man's voice sounded like it was coming from the direction of his feet. The thought of turning in that direction was too much for him to handle. Sharp pain splintered his head as the men continued to argue. 

"I don't know what you want with me." The voice of the man on the cot trembled. "Call my father, he'll pay you whatever you're asking for."

"I want a lot more than just money from you."

"Tell me!" the man cried in frustration.

There was no response.

Miles could hear a door close and then silence. He continued looking at the man on the cot. Finally, the other man noticed that he was awake. Miles expected him to come over and see how he was doing, but instead his look was met with suspicion. Several minutes passed in silence, until Miles couldn't take it any longer. His sharp pain had lessened to a dull throb, so he figured that moving was a possibility. He turned his head and noticed that they were in what resembled a hospital room. The walls were padded and there were bars across the only window. One door was slightly open behind his roommate. He decided to investigate that later. He turned back to his fellow prisoner. "I'm Miles Ballard," he tried, hoping for a response.

"Steven Ellison," the other man grunted.

"What?" Miles almost fell off his bed. "Are you Jim Ellison's brother?"

"You know Jim?" Steven looked amazed and then distrustful.

"Sort of." Miles tried to think. A million thoughts bombarded him at once. "He came to Boston looking for you."

"Are you a cop?" Steven asked.

Miles laughed self-consciously. "No. I'm a college professor." He thought about it. It might be a good idea to mention Blair. "I met Jim through Blair. We sort of connected because of a mutual fascination with the paranormal."

Steven didn't look impressed, but he didn't look disbelieving either, so Miles continued. "When Blair showed up in Boston he told me about you."

"So, why did Braddock kidnap you?" Steven said, echoing his own thoughts.

"I don't know." So Steven knew the identity of his kidnapper, Miles thought to himself. He was pretty sure that Blair had mentioned that the kidnapper was an old nemesis. Had there been some kind of ransom demand? Steven didn't think so. Braddock himself had said that he wanted more than just money. Miles continued. "I came out of the hospital and he shot me in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. How about you?" 

"I took this cab to my hotel. Suddenly, the driver stops at this red light and turns around and shoots me in the neck with a dart. Sound familiar?" he said, sarcastically.

"Just like me," Miles muttered quietly to himself, self-consciously rubbing his neck. 

Steven continued, "I wake up in this dark pit in a warehouse. He doesn't talk to me or tell me anything. He threw me some food every once and awhile and some water. Then this morning, he drugs me and moves me here." 

"You said his name was Braddock. Did *he* tell you that?" Miles still couldn't understand why the two of them were the targets. What was Braddock to them and vice-versa?

"Yep," Steven answered, and then went on to explain. "I work for an architectural company. I met him once at a business meeting, although we didn't exchange many words. We were supposed to meet in Cascade and then I had to cancel because of a conflicting meeting in Boston. On the phone Braddock sounded irate and I think he followed me. I caught a glimpse of him at Logan." Steven paused and looked at Miles, confusion written all over his face. "We don't handle government contracts, or anything top secret. There's nothing special about me."

That last statement echoed in Miles' head. "What if it's not about you, but about your brother? There *is* something special about him."

"What, because he's a cop? Or because he used to be with Special Forces in the Army? That's ludicrous."

"Maybe not." Things kept shifting and sorting in Miles head. "Think about it."

"Then why didn't he kidnap Jimmy?"

If this Jim Ellison was Special Forces, maybe the kidnapper wanted Jim to do something for him? Or, maybe it had something to do with the fact that Jim was a Sentinel? Miles shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose it's not easy to force your brother to do anything." 

Suddenly the lights went out. "Nighty-nighty gentlemen," a loud speaker blared, interrupting their conversation. "Sleep tight."

They were left in darkness. The light from the window was sparse. There was no moon and the stars were hiding under the clouds. Peering through the darkness, Miles could make out a lump on the other cot. Steven was lying down.

"What's your name again?" Steven asked.

"Dr. Miles Ballard."

"That's right. What kind of professor"

"I study, um, folklore and--"

"You an anthropologist, like Jim's friend Blair?"

"No, I'm not like--" then it hit him. Was he like Blair Sandburg? In the book Warren had given him, it stated that the Sentinel had a companion, someone who watched his back. That someone was called a Guide. Blair had written to him that his job was to help Jim. Miles had understood that to mean that Blair helped Jim with his law enforcement duties. What if it entailed more than that? Blair was most likely this companion that the book had referred to. The pieces of the puzzle started falling into place.

"What's the matter? Why are you so quiet?" Steven asked with a panicky voice.

"I think I may know what's going on."

"You do?"

Miles could detect hope and fear in Steven's response. "Have you ever heard of Jim's special gifts, his enhanced senses?"

"I know," Steven's voice became guarded, "that Blair tried to publish a dissertation on something called Sentinels. But he denounced it to be a fake. There was a big media circus and then it all went away."

"What if our kidnapper knows that it was true? That Jim really is a Sentinel with six enhanced senses?"

"Six? I thought there was only five?"

"I think there's six. But that's besides the point."

Steven interrupted him. "You think I was kidnapped to use against my brother?"

"Actually no. I think you were kidnapped to find out if you share the same gifts."

There was quiet. Miles could only imagine what was going through the other man's head. 

"And you? Why you?"

"Maybe I'm supposed to be the companion. The one that helps you control your gifts."

"Like Blair does with Jim?" Steven asked tentatively.

"Exactly. Jim can't exist without Blair. He'd go insane. I've recently read this book that talks about how important the Guide is to the Sentinel. 

"And you think Braddock wants you to be my Guide?" Still Steven sounded unsure. "That is, if I have the same gifts as Jimmy." He paused, and then asked, "You think having a Guide is important?"

"I've seen Jim with Blair." Miles gave a self-depreciating laugh. "They're very close. But, I'm sure I don't have to tell you this. You've seen the two men together."

There was more silence. This time Miles could tell that Steven didn't want to talk anymore. He lay back down on his cot and closed his eyes. The drug remaining in his system made him drowsy. He let himself slide into sleep.

****

Chapter 4 

The sounds of the evening shift change woke Jim. The nurses talking softly behind the desk was worse than an alarm clock. He could hear the tick-tick in his brain as the time went by and Brackett was still loose. 

The evening trays of generic carbohydrates and fat they called dinner were brought around. Blair played idly, swirling his fork in a puddle of brown goo. The coffee wasn't bad. It wasn't good, either. Jim just wanted to get out of there.

Dr. Gabriel walked into the room. "I've got your release papers here. I just need your signatures and you're free to go."

"Finally," Jim muttered as he took the papers, pushed the food out of the way, and scrawled his signature on the line. The first place he wanted to go was back to the warehouse, he thought, starting a mental 'to-do' list. Hopefully the fire didn't destroy everything. Watching as his partner finished signing the release form and hand the chart back, Jim saw the doctor hand a card to Blair. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's that?" he asked accusingly.

"It's my card. We're having a meeting tomorrow night at Elmer's. We'd really like it if you'd join us. No strings attached. You could walk out any time."

"No thanks," Jim quickly replied, not giving Blair a chance to respond or take the offered card. "We've got enough to keep us busy."

Dr. Gabriel gave them a resigned nod, then left their cubicle. 

"Let's go, Chief. Places to go, people to see--"

"And Brackett to find," Blair finished for him.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

After making it back to the hotel, Jim began making phone calls. The first was to a buddy of his in the Pentagon. He needed to find out how Brackett got out of Leavenworth. He had no doubt that it had been Lee Brackett in that warehouse.

"Why do you think Brackett would want Steven?" Blair asked as Jim was punching in the numbers.

"You know how he likes bargaining chips. What better chip than my brother?" Jim retorted as the phone rang on the other end.

"Charlie, it's James Ellison."

"Ellison, what've you been up to? Heard you're a civilian doing guard duty."

"I joined the Cascade Police Department. That's the reason for my call. I put away a man, Lee Brackett, a couple of years ago for terrorism. According to some information I received, he was sent to Leavenworth. Then today, I was involved in cleaning up for a warehouse bombing, and I think I saw Brackett. Do you know if Brackett's still in prison or can you access the information?"

"I'm sorry, Jim I can't tell you very much, it's classified."

"Is he still in prison?" Jim asked again, inflecting the great need for the information into his voice so that his friend might bend the rules if he did know.

"Nope. He has too many skills the government needs for him to rot in jail."

Even though this corroborated his belief, he still felt his heart sink to his feet. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the overwhelming anger that threatened to overcome him. "Do you know if he's in the country?"

"I don't know," Charlie responded soberly. "I assume he's not, but I'm not in the 'need to know' circle. If you're the one who put him away, you better watch your back. He may not be too forgiving."

"Thanks for the info."

"Keep in touch. We could always use a man like you if the guard duty turns too boring for you."

"I don't think that will happen." Jim smiled grimly at the thought. If he had to describe his job, boring would not be one of the words. Hanging up the phone, he felt the fury sweep through him again. "The fools let him out," he told Blair, anger fueling his words. "They made him a deal; he does some lucrative secret missions, and they forget the reason he was jailed. All the details are of course classified."

"Your friend told you that?" Blair looked appalled. He stood up and started pacing. 

"Not in those exact words, no. But I can read between the lines." Jim leaned against the wall, watching his partner. They hadn't really discussed the ramifications of Brackett as the kidnapper, but now they had no choice. "My gut tells me that Brackett kidnapped Steven because he needs me, or my senses, for something." Without meaning to, he exposed his feelings of guilt.

"Us, Jim. He knows that you need me." 

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Yet, maybe Blair was right. It did make him feel better because he wasn't in it alone. Jim softened his tone. "I guess we're a matched set. Can't get one without the other."

Blair acknowledged the unspoken apology. "He's gonna have to contact us, right? I mean, why would he take Steven and then not ask for something?"

They were silent as they contemplated their position.

"Maybe he's already made some demands," suggested Blair.

"I'll call Martello." Jim called the police department. Another officer took the call and informed Jim that Martello had gone home for the day and to check back tomorrow. Jim asked if anything new had been discovered and was told that nothing had. Disgruntled, Jim made an appointment to meet Martello the next morning, around nine, at the warehouse. Jim still wanted to sift through the debris. Maybe Brackett or Steven left something to give him a clue as to where to look next. 

With nothing left to do, the two men decided to go out for dinner. Blair took the phone book and perused the yellow pages.

"How does this sound?" he asked, pointing to an ad.

Jim looked over his shoulder and grimaced as he read. "Cleopatra's Delicacies?"

"Yeah, Mediterranean fare."

"No, thanks." He crowded around Blair, flipping pages. "This one sounds better, Jack's Steak and Seafood. It's at Barefoot Landing, down on the waterfront."

"Ah, come on, Jim. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Back with my sleeping bag and tent."

With the restaurant agreed upon, they changed their clothes and went down to the car. The traffic was heavy despite the late hour. Jim remembered hearing that the Boston interstate system was a mess, but he hadn't believed that it could be this bad.

"So, what's next on the agenda?" Blair's question interrupted the stream of four-letter-words running through his mind.

"The warehouse. I need to get back in there. I'm sure Brackett left us something. He wants us to find him."

"You think it's a game?"

"He's flaunting his superiority. He lets me see him, then engineers a way to escape that also disables us."

"That's been his MO since we first met him."

Jim squeezed the rental into a slot. Blair jumped out of the car and fed the meter some quarters. There was a brisk wind coming off the ocean. Jim turned his face and looked out onto the water. The Atlantic Ocean was very different from the Pacific. He was accustomed to watching the sunset over the surf during dinner, but here, the water looked cold, uninviting, and colorless.

Jim turned abruptly and found Blair staring at him compassionately. 

"We'll find him," Blair assured him.

"I know. Come on, let's go eat." Jim cuffed Blair lightly on the head and they turned toward to restaurant.

Along the beach there was a row of eating establishments intermixed with tiny stores selling everything from bathing suits and towels to suntan lotion and umbrellas. A huge billboard off to the left of where they parked declared that the area was called The Barefoot Landing. All types of music emanated from the different places. Jim focused on Jack's and was pleased to find jazz chords originating from there. 

They entered the front door and waited for the hostess to show them to a table. Blair was gazing at the walls decorated with nautical paintings and signed photographs of jazz musicians. An accelerated heartbeat drew Jim's eyes toward a table where a blond-haired woman sat alone. She peeked at him from over her menu. As their eyes collided, she gave him a smile that seemed to say, come on over and talk to me. Jim broke the connection, both embarrassed and intrigued by her non-verbal invitation. But this wasn't the time to be starting a flirtation. He had a brother to find and a nemesis to outmaneuver. 

Finally, the hostess showed them to a table. Jim could feel the woman's eyes on his back as they walked past her table. He didn't want to face her during dinner, so he chose a seat that kept his back toward her. Their waiter came with menus.

"Jim," Blair spoke, breaking into his thoughts. "Maybe if you think back to when we went into the warehouse, you might remember something new."

"There wasn't a lot of time. I think we were in there five minutes before the explosion."

"That's still five minutes of sensory stimuli that we might be able to access."

Jim opened his menu. "Okay, I'll try." He waited until they placed the order, then he closed his eyes. "I can hear metal scraping. I don't know, it sounds like a door opening that needs WD40."

"Okay. Is there something coming out of that door? Or going in?" 

"No. Wait. I can hear footsteps."

"How many sets?"

"Only one. I smell smoke." Jim wrinkled his face. "It's faint, but I think he set the fire and then it exploded. It wasn't a bomb."

"Did it explode because of a pressure build-up? Can you smell something flammable, like gasoline?"

Jim concentrated. "No. There's faint odor, but nothing I recognize. I think it was the pressure build-up of--I don't know." He felt the frustration gnawing at him. Why couldn't he figure this out?

"Forget that part. So far, you've only focused on that office. What about the rest of the warehouse? Did you smell anything out of the ordinary there?"

Jim mentally shifted his focus. "No, nothing," he said with frustration. "I just didn't pay enough attention." The waiter brought over a bottle of beer for him and a glass of wine for Blair. As he raised the bottle, his ears picked up the sound of the blond talking to someone.

"This waiting is stupid. I think we should just go over there."

"All right," a man agreed with her that sounded suspiciously like Albert, the blind guy from the hospital.

Jim tensed in his seat as he heard their chairs scratch along the floor and a cane bounce along in a direct path towards their table. Blair's eyes widened, in recognition, as the two approached.

"Hey, Jim," he whispered. "It's that guy from the hospital and a woman."

"Excuse me, Mr. Ellison," the woman began, "and Mr. Sandburg. Can we sit down?"

Before Jim could respond, she had pulled a seat out for Albert and then sat herself down in the remaining chair.

"What can we help you with?" Jim asked coldly. 

"Miles is missing," she said without preamble. "I think he's with your brother."

"Who are you?" Blair asked.

"You *think*?" Jim asked at the same time.

"My name is Satori, and--"

"I know, you're another one of 'The Others'," Jim said dryly.

"That's right. After Miles left the hospital, he was supposed to go right to Elmer's, but he never showed up. We called the police last night, but they can't do anything until he's been gone for twenty-four hours."

"How did you know we'd be here?" Jim asked suspiciously.

"Warren told me."

"Right. He's psychic," Jim muttered sarcastically.

"We all are and you don't have to be so negative about it," Satori came right back unfazed. She apparently wasn't cowed in the least by Jim's rudeness. "I figure we can join forces. It's not only your brother that's missing, but our friend as well."

"I don't think so, " Jim told her in clipped tones. "We'll keep looking for my brother, but I don't see how you're going to help."

"Jim," Blair said quietly, but with emphasis. "We've used a psychic before."

"Yeah, but did you notice how cryptic those visions really were?"

Blair shook his head. "Charlie knew things that helped us, man."

"What? You really think that quack--"

"Pardon me," Satori interrupted. "I don't really care about your past experiences with sensitives. Miles Ballard is missing. The same person who took your brother has also kidnapped him. Maybe you ought to start asking yourself why he wanted Miles and stop being overly defensive about the help you might get in finding them."

"Sorry, lady. You're right." She looked surprised that he would agree with her. Good, he liked keeping strangers off balance. "This Miles is a… what?"

Blair answered for her. "He's a professor in stuff like ancient folklore. I told you all this before."

"So, he doesn't have any of these *psychic* gifts?" Jim asked disparagingly. 

"No, he doesn't. Listen I'm not mocking your Sentinel *gifts*, I would appreciate the same consideration. After all, there are a lot more psychics in this world than people with enhanced senses."

Jim stiffened at her attack. It made him extremely uncomfortable when people used his secrets against him. "Fine. I won't say anything more about your *sensitivities* if you refrain from mentioning mine." Jim glanced at Albert. From the little he had seen of the man, he was surprised that he hadn't joined in the argument.

"Okay," Blair began. "Let's consider what Satori has told us. Brackett has kidnapped Miles. Why would Brackett want him? What use could a professor of folklore be to him?"

A random thought hit Jim. He spoke his thoughts aloud. "Dr. Ballard is in a unique field. His knowledge might include folklore, but isn't folklore related to ancient customs and maybe religions?"

Blair nodded, following his train of thought.

Jim continued his thought. "What if Brackett needed information about Sentinels. Would Ballard know anything about it?"

Satori answered. "He read that book Warren found."

"Sentinels of Paraguay," Albert contributed.

"Hey, man. That's Burton's book. It's like the encyclopedia of Sentinels and Guides." Blair leaned forward onto the table. "We know that Brackett's read that book."

"Wait a minute. How do you know that the kidnapper is this Brackett you keep talking about?"

"Jim recognized him at the warehouse," Blair informed her. "We've met him before. He knows about Jim's abilities."

"Then Brackett doesn't know anymore than Miles. Where does that leave us?" Satori asked.

The waiter appeared at their table, breaking up the conversation. "Excuse me, are you now a party of four?" He acted very surly.

"Yes, thank you," Satori told him. "We'll have our food served here."

He gave them an obsequious smile and left. Several minutes later, he returned with their dinner. Jim was amazed at how well Albert was adjusted to his lack of sight. His fork unerringly found his vegetables. He was able to cut his steak into the correct size pieces and he knew when his plate was empty. The waiter brought coffee, and they resumed the discussion.

"You know, maybe Steven just needed a friend," Satori suggested. "Miles was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I don't believe in coincidences," Jim said firmly.

Albert stirred his coffee and mentioned nonchalantly, "If Miles wasn't taken randomly, then he must be needed because of his expertise."

"That just brings us back to the beginning," Jim complained. "We need to think about this some more."

"Why don't I give you my number. Call me tomorrow--" Satori offered.

"We're going back to see the warehouse tomorrow. I'll know more then." He refused to promise to get in touch with them again. He preferred to work alone, without psychic interference.

****

Chapter 5 

The following morning, Jim and Blair left the hotel early to meet Martello at the burned warehouse. Blair followed Jim as they left the car. Jim's nose twitched as he took in the scene around them. Blair couldn't believe the devastation. Brackett sure knew how to level buildings and thus eliminate evidence. The debris from the fire littered at least two square city blocks. The clean-up crew had been put on hold until the forensics people could examine it all. The acrid smell of smoke permeated the air. Blair knew that finding infinitesimal scents amidst the mass collection of odors present would be extremely difficult. A small contingent of what looked to be forensics experts were sifting through the debris.

Martello was standing next to the yellow tape barrier waiting for their arrival. "Good morning, detectives." Blair felt self-conscious about being referred to as a detective, but Jim didn't seem to notice or care. Martello gazed at them critically, and then said, "I'm glad to see that you're not badly injured. Considering the amount of blood you two wore yesterday, I figured you'd be out of commission for awhile."

"All we needed was to have the glass taken out and some bandaging," Jim told him.

Blair laughed self-consciously, then added, "And some pain medication." 

The three men walked past the barricade and into the rubble. Blair looked in amazement at all the damage. The fire had destroyed the building; nothing was still standing. Jim kicked a few things with his feet, his eyes darting everywhere.

"Sergeant," Blair spoke up. "You don't need to follow us around. I'm sure you have your own things to do." 

"Several in fact. I'll leave you to it then."

Blair was grateful for the privacy. Jim didn't even seem to notice. They meandered through the wreckage, picking up the occasional object and then throwing it down again.

"I know it's hard, Jim. But try and dial down the smoke. Think of Steven. What kind of aftershave does he use? What kind of laundry detergent does he use to clean his clothes?"

"It's not just the smoke, it's the burnt plastic, the oil, and the garbage that's dissolved in the water that was used to put out the fire."

"I know, but--" Blair stopped, because he just noticed something peculiar. There seemed to be less debris on the opposite side of where the office had been. He walked over to take a better look. Charred wood beams were lying horizontal, but one seemed to be sticking out of the ground. "Jim. Look at this."

Jim came over to him and the two tried to move some of the rubble away from the beam. Suddenly the ground gave way beneath Blair's feet, sending him into a pit. The fall landed him on his side. Sunlight reflected off the dust as it settled on and around him. Jim and the other officers were gazing at him from above. 

"You all right, Chief?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he called up. "Just let me catch my breath." Blair shifted around, taking the weight off his bandaged arm. "Figures," he muttered to himself, "that I'd land on--" his eyes spied the bed off to the side. "Look at that," he spoke quietly.

"What's going on?" Jim sounded frazzled, obviously hearing Blair talk to himself. "What do you see?"

"There's a bed down here with a sleeping bag on it." Blair pointed to an area still shrouded in darkness under the floorboards. Using his good arm, Blair pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly.

"You sure you're okay? You look a little wobbly down there."

Blair ignored the question and took careful steps over to the cot. "There's a shirt down here, too," Blair shouted excitedly. He went over and picked it up. He didn't recognize it, but that wasn't too surprising."

"We're lowering a ladder," Jim called down to him. "I'm comin' down."

Blair looked up as his partner descended. 

Jim took the shirt and buried his nose in the cloth. "Yep, it's Steven's." He wore a satisfied smile.

"So, why was he down here? Brackett kept Steven a prisoner in a pit?"

"It appears that the opening was covered in boards." Jim pointed upwards. "Several metal joints are still attached, but the wood burned in the fire." 

Blair watched as Jim began to pace around the room. He could swear that the sentinel's nostrils were actually flared, reminding him of a dog hot on a scent. 

"I think Steven was kept down here at least a day, maybe more," Jim said matter-of factly, setting the sleeping bag back on the cot. "He slept here overnight at least once."

"Do you think he was kept in the dark? I mean," Blair laughed nervously, "like there was no light?"

"Yes," Jim answered grimly. "But, I wonder why he was moved? They had a nice little set-up here."

"This place is too small for two people. Dr. Ballard was kidnapped, remember?"

"You don't believe--"

"Yeah, Jim I do. For some reason, Brackett took Steven, kept him here until something was ready for Dr. Ballard to be taken and for Steven to be moved. There was a time factor involved here."

Jim grunted.

Blair kept turning things over in his mind. Why was it so important for Dr. Ballard and Steven to be together? If they could have been kept separate, then Steven could have stayed here. What was the piece he was missing?

Jim put the shirt in an evidence bag and the two men ascended the ladder. 

Sargent Martello was waiting for them at the top. "Heard you found something?"

"Yeah, my brother's shirt. There's a cot and sleeping bag still down there." Jim handed the other officer the evidence bag. "I think we've seen everything here."

"Thank you for allowing us to look over things," Blair added.

"No problem. I'll be in touch if we find out anything new." Then Martello walked away.

"Aren't you going to tell him about Dr. Ballard?" Blair whispered to Jim.

"No. For all we know he could've already turned up."

"No way, man. They would've let us know."

Jim and Blair got back in their car and made their way back to the hotel. Blair stared absently out the window. A collage of storefronts and billboards zoomed by him without eliciting a reaction until he saw the sign for the zoo. A picture of a leopard, which seemed to spring off the board, captured Blair's eye. Long after they passed the sign, the image remained. A cold shiver went down his back as a feeling of dread assailed him. Jim had told him that the spotted jaguar had been Alex Barnes' animal spirit. Everything suddenly became clear. Alex had been in solitary confinement when her senses had come on-line. Was Brackett thinking that Steven was a Sentinel and that he could bring out the latent Sentinel abilities by keeping him in a dark pit? This theory made a lot of sense, except why did Brackett need Dr. Miles Ballard? Was he hoping that the professor might be able to teach Steven how to be a Sentinel? Or could there be another reason? Blair pondered it for a second. No, Dr. Ballard wouldn't be as effective as a teacher as himself, but, then it hit. He was Jim's Guide, or so Brackett had said. Maybe Miles Ballard was supposed to function as *Steven's* Guide and so he put the two together to enable them to bond. 

"Jim," Blair's voice croaked. "I think I've figured it out."

"What?" Jim responded. Blair noticed Jim's concern. His distress must have been apparent to the detective.

"What if Brackett thinks that Steven might be a Sentinel, too? So, he took Dr. Ballard to be Steven's Guide or help him with the transition, or something like that."

Jim slammed on the brakes and pulled the vehicle over to the side of the road. Blair noticed that Jim's hands were shaking on the wheel. In fact, he felt slight tremors wracking his own body.

"My brother does not have Sentinel abilities. I'd have known it. When Brackett figures *that* out, both of them are dead."

"What are we gonna do? We have to find them fast."

"Right." Jim immediately restarted the car and headed back to the hotel. "We need to find out everything about Ballard's abduction. Do you still have that card?"

"Yeah, but the card'll have Ballard's address and number. We need to contact 'The Others'." Blair could almost see Jim shudder at the thought.

"Maybe a trip to the hospital?" Jim paused. "Wait a minute. Dr. Gabriel gave us his card."

"He tried, man. But you wouldn't take it."

Jim vented his frustration on the steering wheel. "When we get back to the hotel. I'm going to call Simon and give him an update."

Blair stayed quiet. He knew that telling his partner "I told you so" wouldn't help. 

As they drove up to the hotel, Blair could see Warren pacing before the front door. He caught the quick look that Jim flashed him. His partner had spotted the strange man as well. After parking the car, they went to the front to meet up with Warren. Blair could see how much Jim dreaded this necessity. Warren didn't seem the sanest person, and that just compounded Jim's prejudice. 

"They're waiting for you inside," Warren told them. After a few steps Warren looked down at Jim's feet. "I guess your cat wasn't hurt because it was only your body that suffered, not your soul."

Blair was amazed at the insight. Several thoughts swirled in his mind. Thinking back to when Alex Barnes had been a threat, he remembered Jim telling him that he'd had a dream that he'd shot an arrow into a wolf, which then had morphed into Blair. The wolf was hurt because Blair's soul was going to be hurt by Jim's actions. That dream had nothing to do with Alex trying to kill him. It had meant that Jim was going to hurt him. Blair looked over at his friend who looked a little queasy. Was he thinking the same thing? Then Blair's mind went blank with shock. Several chairs in the center of the lobby were taken up by a group of people that he could tell were all part of 'The Others'. Satori, Albert, and Dr. Gabriel were seated with an elderly black man and a young woman who was maybe in her early twenties. 

Warren went over to them. "That's Elmer," he said pointing to the elderly man. "And that's Marian."

"Thank you, Warren, for the introduction," Elmer said as he rose. "I believe that now that we have a common interest, we must work together. Satori met with you last night, is that correct?"

Jim nodded.

"Will you accept our help? Have you come to terms with that, yet?"

"Okay," Jim replied through clenched teeth. "Why don't we go up to the room?"

"I suggest we head over to my house. The atmosphere is better. Don't you agree, Marian?" Elmer looked pointedly at her, silently communicating something that made her uncomfortable.

"Yes, Elmer," she agreed, with a soft, high-pitched voice. She seemed to want to stay in the background, as if she were uncomfortable with the situation.

"I'm Blair Sandburg," he held out his hand. "I know he looks real mean, but he's just a pussy-cat."

"A big black jaguar," Warren inserted.

An irritated look flashed on Jim's face. Blair ignored it, but Marian took a step back.

"I'm Marian Kitt. I'm new to this group." She turned away from Blair back towards Elmer. "You can do this easier than I can," she pleaded.

"I could," Elmer told her patiently. "But, I'm getting old. My time on this side is getting shorter. You need the practice, while I'm still here to teach you. Satori," Elmer commanded, "you ride with them so they don't get lost."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The awkward silence stretched on. Miles had tried to initiate conversation with Steven, but the man was uncooperative. Maybe he was saving his strength for their kidnapper. Breakfast time came and went, but they remained undisturbed. Off in the distance, Miles heard a fire siren wail.

"It must be noon," Miles commented. "How long does this guy usually leave you alone?"

"No idea. It was hard keepin' track of time in that pit. Whenever the hatch opened, it appeared dark, like it was at night."

Miles took another tour of the room, more to pass the time than for any hope of finding a way out. The beds were bolted to the floor. The lone table was also bolted, for no matter how much effort he put into moving it, the table wouldn't budge. The windows were of a semi-opaque material, he couldn't see out but light was able to penetrate. There were bars in front of them, so that even if he could get them open, they would never be able to escape. Three vents were placed near the ceiling, and air blew through them at all times. Miles tried to reach the vents, but since neither the table nor the beds moved, the height was unmanageable. Even if he had been able to stand on Steven's shoulders, the height was still too great. 

The bathroom was utilitarian. The sink gave forth water. The toilet had paper and flushed. That was the extent of it. No glasses, or even paper cups. The toilet paper sat on the floor; there was no spindle for it attached to the wall or sink. No pipes were visible; they had to be behind the wall. Miles wasn't sure if their kidnapper had made these adjustments, or if this was part of the original plans.

The sound of a door opening brought Miles out of the bathroom. Their kidnapper stood silhouetted in the doorway. A tray of food was balanced on one hand. A nasty looking gun was visible from a hip holster. His other hand held a key card, which he placed inside a shirt pocket, then closed the door. 

"Good morning, Dr. Ballard. Mr. Ellison. I trust you slept well?" 

Their jailer came into the room and sat the tray down on Miles' bed. "I brought you some lunch. I hope you're hungry."

Miles looked suspiciously at the food. "I still have a headache from the last drug."

"You don't have to worry. I didn't put anything in it. I want you both awake and alert." Then as an afterthought, "I'll bring you some Tylenol later." When neither Miles nor Steven moved, the man reached down, removed a small sandwich and took a bite. "Please, you really need to keep your strength up, if only to fight me." He added an engaging grin.

"How long are you going to keep us here?" Steven asked belligerently.

"As long as it takes. Now, let me introduce myself. I know I've let you believe," he looked pointedly at Steven, "that my name is Braddock, but it isn't. It's Lee Brackett. Mr. Ellison, does the name mean anything to you?"

"No." Steven reached over and grabbed a sandwich, acting almost defiantly. 

Miles could see the distrust in his roommate's eyes and knew it echoed in his own. Steven took a bite. With a mental shrug, Miles walked over to the bed and took one for himself. Cans of soda were also on the tray, so he grabbed one of those as well.

"You mean, Jim never mentioned me?" Brackett took another bite. "I'm hurt. We've had a few joint ventures in our day. Never mind the details, but let me assure you that I don't intent to hurt you. In fact, I'm hoping we can become friends."

"That's doubtful," Miles muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Brackett questioned.

"I think I know what you're after and--"

"Really? And what is that?"

"You're looking to see if Steven is a Sentinel."

"Very good, Dr. Ballard. May I call you Miles?"

"Doesn't really matter. If Steven doesn't have these enhanced senses already, what makes you think that being locked up in here will bring them out?"

"From what I've read, it takes prolonged solitude to bring them out. I thought of keeping him in that warehouse for about a month, but I was afraid he'd go insane. The last thing I want is for that to happen."

"It would make him harder to control," Miles added.

"Exactly. I would prefer a willing partner, but that hasn't been so easy to get lately."

Steven opened him mouth to speak, then closed it again. 

"Yes?" Brackett addressed him directly. "I'll answer any of your questions."

"Why Dr. Ballard? You kidnapped *me* because you think I might be a Sentinel, but why do you need him?"

"Haven't you talked about this with your brother? Doesn't the fact that Jim takes Blair everywhere with him tell you something?"

"They're friends. Blair is more of a brother to him than I am."

Brackett shook his head. "You know nothing. Jim *needs* Blair Sandburg. He'd be in an asylum, just like this one, if he didn't have a companion to help him with his senses, to keep his mind focused on reality, while his senses wander off and do their thing. Blair Sandburg is a necessity in his life. Therefore, you'll need someone to fulfill that function for you. I chose Dr. Ballard here, because he seems the most educated in mythology and ancient customs, and yet still retains the ability to accept things the common professor would disbelieve in a second. He can help you look deep inside and find what you've hidden from yourself."

"It's not there. I don't have any enhanced senses."

"I think you do. Jim is a tough act to follow. He's been your idol, an icon to live up to all your life. It's been my experience that the younger brother has a tendency to pick the exact opposite of whatever their older brother has chosen, no matter what the choice pertained to. They do not want to compete when the stakes are high. When you were younger, you probably noticed that Jim had the talent so you abruptly turned it off in yourself."

"What are you, a psychologist?" Miles asked, awed by how much this man had researched and knew about Steven's and his brother's mind.

"I have a degree in that, yes." Brackett gave him a condescending smile. "I'm not just some terrorist off the street. I was educated at Yale, and thanks to Uncle Sam, I've had ample experience in many diverse things."

"But what makes you so sure that I've got the same gifts as Jim?" 

Steven wouldn't let it go. Miles started wondering. What if Brackett had a point? What if Steven *had* repressed his Sentinel gifts as a child?

Brackett interrupted his musings. "From what I've seen in Peru, the trait of enhanced senses is dominant. That means that you have a twenty-five percent chance of having it, and a fifty-percent chance of being a carrier, with probably one or two enhances senses, and twenty-five percent chance of being like the rest of us. I want to find out which category you fall into."

"And if I don't?" Steven voiced the one question Miles had been loath to ask. 

"You don't get out," Brackett told them bluntly. "I have this place set up so that if you use enhanced sight and hearing, you can avoid my traps and escape."

"Right, and you'll shoot us as we walk out the front door."

"No. If you can escape on your own, I'll let you go. If someone tries to break you out, I'll blow the whole installation and everyone will die."

"Why would you just let us go?" Miles asked suspiciously.

"I can always capture you again. For now, this is only an experiment." Brackett stood up. "I think I'll leave you, now. Have fun, kiddies." He withdrew the card from his pocket and slipped it into the crack between the door and frame. They heard a click and the lock became disengaged. Brackett turned to them once more. "The locking mechanism is in the wall. The magnetic strip on my card released the lock." He smiled and closed the door behind him.

They were alone once more. Both sat in silence. Miles didn't know what to say. Could Steven be a Sentinel? It was possible. 

"He won't let us go," Steven said abruptly.

"Pardon?"

"He was lying. If we're able to escape, he won't let us go far. He can't afford to let me and Jimmy hook up, then we'd be twice as dangerous, and it would be harder for him to get me again.

"He dangled that carrot for motivation." Miles did understand. Brackett was a slippery fellow. "Saying that he'd let us escape would give you motivation to try and get your Sentinel abilities to work. 

"He's very sharp. Either way, we're dead meat. I don't have enhanced senses. I'd know if I did." Steven threw himself down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Anger made his body rigid.

Miles picked up the tray and set it on the floor. There were several sandwiches left. He thought morosely that they might end up being their dinner. Brackett most likely wouldn't return that day. "I wish we had a deck of cards. Then at least we could pass the time playing gin or something." Lying down on the bed, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, then the walls, then the window. He was so bored.

****

Chapter 6 

Blair gave a sigh of relief as Jim pulled in the driveway behind the large Delta 88. The ride from the hotel to Elmer Greentree's house was strained, despite his best efforts in continuing the flow of conversation. Satori was wonderful, divulging interesting anecdotes about herself and 'The Others'.

"How long have you been a part of the group?" Blair asked, curious about its origins.

"About three years. One day, Elmer walked into my place and asked me to contact his dead father. I had never seen him before and considered him just another client," she smiled.

"But, he wasn't," Blair interjected, realizing that this was going to be a funny story. "So, what happened?"

"My room was all set up. I had candles burning and the lights were dim. The mood was perfect. I called for the senior Mr. Greentree to come and talk to us. I expected a willowy spirit or even something dramatic." She smiled and then started laughing. "What I got was nothing like that. He came waltzing into the room through the far wall, laughing hysterically. I thought he was drunk. He walks over to Elmer and hits him in the shoulder and says, 'Since when do you need a medium to talk to me?'"

"You had been had." Blair could find this funny, but he bet she hadn't back then.

"Elmer was testing me. After I passed, he invited me to join his group. Warren was the only other member."

They talked some more about the different incidents that had happened. Some of them sounded as dangerous as what he and Jim had gone through. However, no matter how funny or serious the things she told them were, Jim remained stony-faced through it all. It was obvious that Jim didn't want to believe in the paranormal, even though he had experienced it first hand. 

Jim turned off the ignition, breaking into Blair's thoughts. Satori jumped out of the car with Blair close behind. 

As Jim walked up to the front door, he stopped with a puzzled expression on his face. He bent down and ran his finger along the doorframe. "Salt?" He touched his tongue to his finger, then looked at Satori. "Elmer Greentree lines his doorways with table salt?"

"It's sea salt. It protects him from demons."

Jim gave a disgusted snort, but Blair was fascinated. "Does it work?"

"Of course it does," Satori answered seriously. "He makes us all keep sea salt in our cupboards, just in case."

The door opened and Elmer beckoned them inside. Satori went in first and went directly to a seat in the living room. Everyone else was waiting for them. Their seating order appeared to be one dictated by habit. There low hum of conversation, which ceased as soon as they entered the room. 

Blair glanced around, self-consciously, but then noticed that Warren was staring at something, that only he could see. The invisible object walked into the room and then over toward the big armchair. Warren's eyes lifted as though the object jumped into the armchair. He stared at it for a couple of seconds and then looked directly at Jim. "I guess your cat is interested in what's going on, too."

Jim started to make some defensive remark, but Albert cut him off. "Can we get going, here?" he groused. "Miles is waiting to be found."

Blair could see Jim trying to rein in his frustration. 'The Other's' were such a strange assortment of individuals, but it worked. He didn't understand it, but Blair could almost feel the hole that was caused by Miles Ballard's absence. "Are you going to call on some spirits?" Blair asked, his eyes glowing in excitement, as he took a seat. Jim selected a chair next to him.

"No. We don't need anyone from the other side. Marian's going to do it all on her own." Elmer sat several maps and atlases upon a coffee table. He took the last remaining chair.

"I don't know where to start," Marian admitted, looking bewildered at the pile of maps.

"We've done this before. Just pick one up and concentrate. Remember--"

"Yeah, the octopus," she responded with a smile.

Much to Blair's surprise, the rest of the group seemed just as confused

"Octopus?" the doctor asked. "When did you have to look for an octopus?"

Marian gave him a humorous smile. "A couple of weeks ago. Now be quiet." She picked up one of the maps and a pencil. Smoothing out the creases, she ran her hand over it.

Blair could see the large letters forming the word 'Boston' at the top of the first map. Everyone was still. Satori and Warren had their eyes closed. Dr. Gabriel was watching every move Marian made. Elmer leaned back in his chair and wore a satisfied smile.

"They're not in Boston," she remarked and grabbed another map. This one was of the entire state. Again, she spread it out on the coffee table and ran her hand over it. 

Blair fidgeted in his seat. Marian's left hand began to slow and go over a certain area of the map more thoroughly. She brought the pencil to the map and closed her eyes tight. For several seconds she didn't move, then she circled something on the map. Elmer slid a notebook under the pencil and she started to write frantically. Her eyes were still closed. Blair was incredulous as she continued, line after line. He looked over at Jim, who looked just as astonished. "What's she writing?" Blair whispered to Jim.

The pencil snapped; the spell had broken. Marian opened her eyes and looked down at the paper.

"Directions," Jim responded as he leaped from his seat. "Let's go."

"Don't you need to call for other officers?" Dr. Gabriel asked. "I can't imagine you'd want to go into that situation alone."

"Yeah, man," Blair agreed. "We need backup. You know how tricky Brackett is. We'll probably need some kind of explosive expert. Hell, maybe we need a whole SWAT team."

Jim acknowledged his advice. "Where's your phone?" Jim asked Elmer.

Jim grabbed Marian's scribbled notes on his way to the telephone. He called Martello, giving the Lieutenant the directions. While Jim was busy, Blair leaned over the map that Marian had been using. "What is this place?" he asked Elmer.

"The building was built in the 1800's as a sanitarium for communicable diseases. At one point, Tuberculosis patients were housed there and then people with Typhoid. When antibiotics were developed, the place was converted to a psychiatric center."

"We ready, now?" Jim asked, interrupting the conversation. "Backup is on its way."

"I'm coming, Jim. We'll let you know how--" Blair started, but wasn't allowed to finish.

"We're going, too." Satori and Dr. Gabriel stood ready to accompany them. Elmer wore a benign smile.

"No, you're not," Jim told them forcefully. "It's no place for civilians. You should stay where it's safe--"

"We'll stay in the background," Dr. Gabriel informed him. "I promise we won't get in the way. Miles is our friend. We helped you find where they are and we want to be there when they're found."

Jim took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Come on, we're wasting time," Blair urged. He knew it was a losing battle. The doctor and Satori were determined to accompany them.

"All right," Jim practically shouted at them.

The four got into the car and Jim pushed past the speed limit. Several times Blair was tempted to caution Jim about his driving, but one look into his friend's set face and clenched jaw was enough to silence him. 

It took them over an hour to reach the long country road where the sanitarium was located. A wrought iron fence surrounded the property. Fields of uncut weeds grew in abundance.

"Why hasn't someone bought this land? It must be worth a fortune," Blair commented.

"The place has changed hands at least six times in the last ten years. Back in the 1920's, it was an insane asylum. Recently different pharmaceutical companies have purchased it in hopes of renovating it for research. Usually they go under or have been bought out before any of the plans come to fruition," Dr. Gabriel told them.

Jim pulled over to the side of the road. "Stay here," he commanded to everyone. 

Blair stayed in the car and watched Jim as he perused the surroundings. The detective stood there for almost five minutes and Blair couldn't take the suspense any more. "You see anyone?" Blair asked softly.

Jim turned to the car. "I can't see any evidence of booby-traps. I can't smell any explosive devices, and there don't seem to be any sounds out of the ordinary."

"I guess, we'll have to go in," Blair told him matter-of-factly.

"I hear sirens. Shit!" Jim swore. "I should've told them to come in quiet. There's no telling what Brackett'll do now. Come on," he told his partner. 

Blair opened the door to get out. Dr. Gabriel started to get out of the car, too, but Jim wouldn't allow him. "I want you and Satori to stay here. Remember you promised to stay out of the way." Jim followed his directive with a chilling glare. Blair would bet his last five dollars that they wouldn't disobey.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Miles yawned, but there was no way he could sleep. He couldn't believe how anti-social this Steven Ellison was turning out to be. It had to be genetic; Jim was the same way from what he had seen.

Breaking the silence, "So, what exactly do you do?"

"I'm an executive in an architectural firm. In other words, I make evaluations and then go back to the CEO with my findings. If he approves, then I organize the contract and allocate the responsibilities. Then our company builds whatever is needed."

"Then on to the next project?"

"Yep. I rarely get to see the finished product."

"Are you happy?"

Steven sat up in bed and stared at him. "What do you mean?" he asked defensively.

"Just what I said. Do you like your job? Do you look forward to going in each day? Does it leave you fulfilled?"

Steven was silent a moment. "It's what expected of me. I don't really have any talents, except for making money."

"Does making money make you happy?"

"It makes the old man happy." Steven gave a snort and reclined on his bed once more.

"I don't imagine your brother makes a whole lot of money as a cop. Does it upset your farther?"

"I have no idea. We've never discussed it."

"Does it make you feel superior to Jim because you have your father's approval?"

"Who in the hell said I have his approval? He bitches constantly about what contracts I should have gotten and blasts me for any mistakes I've made along the way. I still can't do anything right."

"Doesn't sound like you're very close with him. What about Jim?" Miles was very curious about this Ellison family. It sounded like all three were dysfunctional. 

"We're getting to be friends again. Pop made us very competitive when we were younger. I always felt like Jim was better at everything. He was older and I was constantly playing catch-up. I didn't think it was fair, so I sometimes cheated. My last escapade estranged us for about twenty years. It was all my fault, but as more and more time passed, it became more difficult to rectify."

"I know what you mean. Being a professor of mythology and folklore was not what my parents or even my ex-wife thought I should be doing. Remember the movie Ghostbusters? Well for years afterwards my family considered what I did no better than a comedy. I was never taken seriously."

"And now?"

Miles looked over at Steven. He seemed interested. At least talking made the time go by faster. "I'm still the family joke."

There was a click at the door and then it opened. The prisoners sat up in their beds. Lee Brackett entered carrying belts with two bricks of something attached to the front.

"Looks like we're going to have to move to the island faster than I had planned. The cavalry is getting closer. If you'd like to go under your own steam, you'll have to wear this. If not, I'll drug you again."

Miles looked dubiously at the belt. Small shafts of pain still rocked his head and the thought of more of that drug made him sick. He'd rather be awake to take any advantage for escape. He stood, volunteering to be first. Brackett came over to him and slipped the belt around his waist. If he had been like those secret agent guys, he might have been able to hit Brackett over the head and then he and Steven could have made a run for it. As it was, he remained still, letting Brackett buckle the thing in place. Next Bracket withdrew metal rings, which fixed his wrists to his side and the belt.

"You still have the use of your feet, but don't think you can get away from me," Brackett warned him.

Next, he did the same to Steven.

"What island?" Steven asked as his arms became secured.

"I wasn't sure if this cozy environment would be enough to bring out your dormant senses. Jim didn't realize his until he was stranded in Peru fighting for survival."

Miles could see Steven biting his lip, probably trying to keep himself from replying. Neither wanted to anger Brackett and cause him to do something rash that would result in one of them getting hurt or killed.

Brackett moved off to the door. Steven walked over to Miles and then whispered. "That isn't true. He had them as a kid."

Miles was surprised. Blair hadn't mentioned that. What was the island that Brackett mentioned? Miles didn't like that idea at all. Fighting for survival? Neither Steven nor he knew anything about it. Both of them led soft lives and could get everything they needed with a swipe of their credit card.

"Okay men, move out," Brackett told them.

"What's on this belt," Miles asked, but afraid he knew the answer.

"Explosives. See this little button on my watch? I press it, both of you get blown to bits."

Brackett pushed them down the hall to the stairs. "I've got an SUV parked in the woods about a mile from here," he told them. "We'll sneak out the back and drive away. The cops will be too busy playing with the booby traps I left." Brackett chuckled, as they descended the stair to the ground floor. Miles could swear that Brackett was actually enjoying this. 

There was a door at the bottom of the stairwell. Brackett pulled out a pair of binoculars, opened the door a crack and peered out. "Unfortunately, I see a car parked on the road in the direction we have to head. Ignore them," Bracket told them sternly. "If we don't bother them, hopefully we can just walk right on by."

Casually, the three men left the safety of the building and walked across the grounds. Sirens were still wailing, but they seemed to be on the opposite side and Miles couldn't even see any flashing lights. Weren't the cops supposed to surround the place? How could they just walk out undetected?

As they got closer to the car, Miles recognized the people inside, Satori and Mark. "Oh, this is not good," Miles groaned to himself.

When Satori saw them, the two scrambled out of the car. 

"Shit," Brackett muttered. "Looks like we'll take this car, since they're so generously loaning it to us," he spoke in low tones.

"What--" Mark's eyes widened as he saw the gun aimed at him.

"Listen," Brackett said menacingly. "I'm sorry to interrupt your make-out time or what ever you young people call it, but we're borrowing your car. If you don't make a fuss, I won't shoot you."

"Make-out time?" Miles thought to himself. "Just because Mark and Satori were sitting in the backseat--wait--that might prove interesting, or rather diverting."

Satori and Mark backed up slowly, leaving them ample room to get into the car. Miles looked back to the building and could see two figures running toward them. It looked like Jim and Blair. Miles wasn't sure if Brackett had seen them yet. The keys were in the ignition, so it didn't take long for their kidnapper to get the car going. 

Turning around, Miles could see Satori reach for Mark's hand. "Get down, Steven. It's going to get rocky." Just before he ducked, Miles could see a line of flames overtaking the car.

Suddenly the front window cracked, followed by the rear one. Glass fell onto their bodies. One of the tires blew, causing the car to swerve. Brackett lost control and the car started up the lawn. Miles started praying that the explosives around their waists wouldn't go off. 

Brackett was able to swing the car around and head back to the road. The side windows blew, raining glass over their bodies. Miles adjusted himself in the seat just in time to see a tree next to the road burst out in flames. Brackett was swearing, but Miles couldn't hear what he said over the roaring in his ears. Then the car stopped. The driver's door flew open and Brackett jumped out just as Jim and Blair reached them. Miles poked his head up and saw that Brackett had already crossed the street.

"Hey, Jim. You catch me, it's all over for your brother." Brackett tapped on his watch. 

Jim ignored the warning and started after Brackett. Blair opened the car door. Miles started to sit all the way up, but Steven's belt seemed to be snagged with his. Both men began to tremble. Steven gave out an agonizing scream, "Jiiiimmm," which stopped his brother in his tracks.

"Jim, they're wearing explosives," Blair explained and then he leaned in and began to disentangle them. In their panicked state, they didn't realize that it was Miles' pocket watch that had wrapped itself around the small box, which held the explosives on Steven's belt. Blair released them and Miles slowly got out of the car, shaking some of the glass off his clothes.

Steven was out of the car by the time that Jim made it over to them.

"Give me your glasses," Jim demanded Miles.

"What?" Miles didn't want to give them up; he'd be blind without them.

Jim ripped them off his face. He bent one of the ear-pieces and ripped it off the rest of the frame. Jabbing the piece torn from the glasses into the lock, he released Miles and Steven from the metal ring attached to the belts. After releasing the buckle, he crossed the street and placed the belts on the grass. He stood up, looking off in the direction Brackett had gone. For several seconds he stood there staring with his head tilted to one side. Then he came back and pulled Steven into a giant bear hug. "God, I was so worried."

Miles grinned. It looked like the brothers were closer than Steven had thought. He was glad. Satori and Mark came over to him. Mark immediately went into doctor mode. Miles answered his questions, but his attention was still with Steven and Jim. 

"That was some stunt you pulled," Miles joked with his friends.

"Yeah," Jim came over to them stern-faced. "What in the hell happened? How did you start the fires and blow out the windows?"

Satori glanced at Mark with both guilt and amusement on her face. "We held hands," she told Jim honestly. "Haven't you ever heard of psychic combustion? When Mark and I touch, the sparks really fly."

Miles laughed at Jim Ellison's expression. It held bemusement and resignation. 

"I guess I really don't want to know."

"Hey, Jim," Blair remarked. "Now you sound like Simon when we're discussing Sentinel stuff."

Sirens could be heard in the distance and getting closer. "Guess it's time to face the music," Miles told them all.

Jim Ellison stared off across the street in the direction that Brackett had headed. Blair came up behind him and patted him on the back. "We'll get him," Blair told Jim reassuringly.

Miles saw Steven watch the interchange between Jim and Blair. The younger brother's eyes reflected a yearning quality; he seemed isolated now. Miles felt bad for him. But then Jim looked over to Steven and gave him a wide grin. Steven returned it and the loneliness seemed to dissipate.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim and Steven entered the hotel room. The questioning by the Boston police department had finally ended. Blair decided to return to Elmer Greentree's house with Miles Ballard for "some information, man". Jim wanted nothing more to do with 'The Others', but reluctantly agreed that Blair might learn something from them.

Steven was wrung out and needed some peace and quiet. Both men showered and Jim called down for some room service. Steven said he wasn't hungry, but Jim insisted that both of them needed food.

Steven sat at the table twirling his fork in his cooked vegetables and eating very little. Jim watched concerned, but didn't know how to help. He tried the inane chatter that Sandburg excelled at, but when there was no response, he lapsed into silence for a little while. Maybe the direct approach was best, he reasoned.

"I'm sorry Steven that you got messed up in something that you--that I--I should have been able to prevent. It's my fault--"

"That you were the one born with enhanced senses and not me?" Steven retorted harshly.

Jim was speechless.

Steven continued as if a dam had suddenly opened. "All my life, you were the special one. You were the one who got the best grades. You were the one who scored the winning touchdown. You were the one who was captain of the basketball team for all four years of high school. I was the younger brother who was quiet, studious," then he gave a harsh laugh, "sneaky and conniving. I had to have things my way some of the time. I didn't know how to fight against your perfection."

"I wasn't perfect," Jim interjected.

"I know that now. But back then, you were always right. You had your enhanced senses that gave you an edge over me every time. Then Bud died and I thought things were going to change. Dad yelled at you, he made you *sorry* that you had that edge, so you stopped using it. Then I thought, aha! Now, it's my turn. But, I didn't have them. I tried. God knows how I tried to do the things you did. I couldn't smell roast beef from down the block. I couldn't hear Sally telling Dad that someone had eaten the last of the chocolate chip cookies, so I could come in and ask for some and happen to mention that I saw my brother eating some just an hour ago."

Jim blushed as he remembered that particular incident. He began to realize that as much as he resented Steven for all the nasty things he believed his brother had done, Steven had just as many bad memories. "I'm sorry. I used my senses without thought; they were a part of me. I had no conception of how you felt about them."

"I know. Now. But, let me tell you, I wanted that edge that you seemed to forget so easily."

"I didn't forget it that easily. It was cauterized out, and I've never felt whole since then. There's been a part of me missing, until I got them back and Sandburg came into my life to help me manage them. For the first time since I was really little, I feel complete. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Steven picked up his glass and took a swallow of his milk. "All this discussion doesn't alter the fact that Brackett wants me to be like you and will keep testing me until I pass or until I'm dead."

Jim nodded, agreeing. "But, we know about it now. Brackett is out there, waiting for his chance."

"How did you really connect with Blair?" Steven asked. "I mean, Brackett seemed to think that Miles Ballard could be to me, like Blair is to you. I know that can never happen."

"You're asking me? I have no idea. Sandburg came into my life and I've been scrambling ever since to keep up with him. He has me on my head most of the time. The only thing I can say is that it's a matter of trust. I trust him, so I can let down my defenses. That's why he can help. Until you've experienced a zone-out, a complete lack of stimuli except for one sense, and the only thing that's there to save your sanity is the voice that's calling to you--" Jim shivered. "It's good to trust that voice," he concluded.

Steven stopped and looked squarely at Jim. "I'm glad you have Blair." 

Jim waited for more, but Steven broke eye contact and resumed eating. This time he actually made his food disappear from his plate. For the first time they had really talked about his Sentinel abilities and what Steven thought about them. Jim went back to his dinner and began to plan how he was going to protect his brother.

****

Epilogue 

Lee Brackett smoothed out the lines in his suit trousers as he exited the elevator. He looked every inch the federal liaison. The secretary motioned him into the office. "Mr. Guyon. It's a pleasure to meet you in person," he told the executive.

"Please sit down, Mr. Wilson. I hope my proposal was satisfactory?"

Bracket let a smile lighten his features. "It was. The government has decided to award your company the contract. I understand that you're building a subsidiary on the West Coast somewhere?"

"Yes. Seattle was suggested, but after we made a few studies, we decided on Cascade. Ground breaking should be in a couple of months and the complex should be completed by fall."

"That long?"

"But we'll start manufacturing the product in our Boston compound right away. You should get your first shipment next month."

"Excellent. My superiors will be pleased." Bracket made a move to stand, then deliberately stopped and asked, "There hasn't been any trouble, has there?"

"Not at all. Mr. Ellison is taking charge of the new complex in person. Everything will be on schedule."

"Then all I need is your signature on the dotted line and I'll take myself back to Washington." Lee deliberately implied the nation's capitol, not the state.

As Brackett left Guyon's office building, he gave a feral grin. All was not lost. He had planted a seed. The question was would it flower? He'd be keeping his eye on Steven Ellison. The island would always be there when the time was right.

****

The End

   [1]: mailto:lwright3@rochester.rr.com



End file.
